I Told You I Would Come Back
by MiekoYagyu
Summary: Shinta lost everything because of one man. Revenge is sweet, and best served with a blade. This is a oneshot.


**I Told You I Would Come Back**

**Disclaimer: **Okay, let's go through the check list… Am I obscenely rich? …Nope. Do I live in Japan? …No. Is my name Nobuhiro Watanuki? …Yes. … Okay, I lied on that one.

**/oOo/**

The fall snow hurt the bare feet, freezing it down to its owner's very bones. Every broken patch in the snowdrifts, showing exactly where he stepped, had a red tint. His feet had lacerations all over them from the sharp ice, and were bleeding all over the white snow. But the little boy did not care. He kept on walking, heading to a tiny hut, holding a bucket of water filled to the brim that was too big and too heavy for him. Every three steps or so, the freezing water would slosh onto the boy's shirt, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.

When he entered through the doorway, he called out, "Mama, I have some water. I'm coming over to you, so don't get up." The boy struggled to get the heavy bucket over to his mother. The pail was half empty, with half of the water saturating the 6-year-old's torso. The boy finally decided on dragging the bucket over the floor, to prevent any spills.

The mother was in a corner of the house, lying on a thin futon. Her skin was unbearably dry, and her lips looked like someone had whittled crevices into them. She tried to smile at her son, but her lips cracked and started to bleed. The woman didn't make a move to wipe away the blood. She couldn't move a limb up higher than a couple of inches of the ground, with her severe muscle weakness.

"Shinta? Is that you?" Her voice was horribly faint and higher-pitched than her usual musical alto. "I'm so thirsty. Please, give me some water. …So … thirsty…" she rasped.

Shinta dipped his hands into the water and tried to aim most of it at his mother's mouth. Some of it dribbled down her neck and into her kimono, but the mother didn't notice as she greedily gulped the water down. After Shinta's hands were beyond cold, his mother stopped drinking.

"Thank you, Shinta. Such a good boy… Mama's lucky to have you." She looked at Shinta with those terrible, sunken eyes. Coupled with her pale skin and her red hair hanging limp, she looked just like a ghost. "Where is your brother?" she asked, finally noticing that a family member was missing.

"Joji-niichan is in the rice paddies. We're going to sell some of it to buy you some medicine, Mama." Shinta said seriously, in his quiet way.

"Joji was always a good farmer. But you, Shinta, are my little one. You have the biggest heart out of anyone," the mother wheezed. "You have to be strong, Shinta. You and Joji both. I'm not going to be here to take care of you…" A tear slipped out of her eye and down to join the lake in her kimono.

"What are you talking about, Mama? Are you leaving us? What did I do? Are you leaving because of me?" asked the little boy, tears running down his face.

"It's not you're fault Shinta. I'm just sick, really sick, and I'm not going to last long. Promise me this, though. Don't grow up bitter, like other people. Keep that great heart and kindness with you… Don't let it go… People will tell you that kindness is a weakness; don't believe them. I love you and Joji so much…" She tried to reach her son's crying face, to stroke away his tears with her cold fingers. "So handsome… just like your father…" The hand dropped. It didn't rise again. It would never, ever rise again.

"Mama? Mama?!" asked the boy, his voice getting higher in grief. "Wake up, Mama. You can't go to sleep, you can't!" He shook his mother gently, not hearing the heavy footsteps of his older brother enter the house.

A rough hand yanked Shinta away from the body. Shinta fought to get out of the arms, but the arms wouldn't let go. The hands spun him around and Shinta could see his older brother Joji looking at him sadly.

"Shinta, listen to me," began the 13-year-old. Shinta struggled wildly to get out of Joji's grasp. "Shinta!" Joji shook his brother to get him to calm down.

"Mama's sleeping, Joji-niichan. I have to wake her up. I have to," said Shinta.

"Shinta, she's not going to wake up! Mama's-"

"Don't say it! She's not! She's not! Mama is not dead!" screamed Shinta, pounding his brother's arms in childish desperation.

"Shinta! She's dead! She's dead like Father, okay?! The cholera got them like Grandmother and Grandfather! She's not coming back, so snap out of it!" yelled Joji. His eyes trembled with unshed tears, and his face was redder than an oni's mask.

"I- I…" Shinta couldn't finish his thought. He turned back to his brother and buried his head in his shirt. Joji carried him back outside to the old oak tree where their family had shared so many meals together. Shinta cried into his brother's shirt while Joji stood there, lamenting his parents' deaths as well.

/oOo/

A week later found Shinta and Joji at the headman's house. It was about 10 feet wider than their hut, but just as drab. The headman was fat, wider than a pig, and his personality was like a rat's. His eyes were beady, black stones, and his mouth was constantly damp. He was the ugliest thing in the world, in Shinta and Joji's opinion, but the headman thought he was the gods' gift to females. He kept by him several simpering women, who were looking for some easy cash.

"Well, well, well, what _do_ we have here? I see your mother kicked the bucket finally." He paused, letting a womanwith a thick neck to blot his lips with her kimono hem. Joji scowled in anger while Shinta looked ready to kick the headman's butt to Hokkaido.

"Nowhere to stay? Why is that?" smiled the headman in what he thought as a pleasant, suave manner, but ended up like he had one too many tainted tuna.

"We have nowhere to stay because our home was taken away by _you_," spat Joji.

"No to mention all our things inside it," glared Shinta. Shinta's glare was considered to be a thing of nightmares, because his eyes projected so much fury and coldness. The headman recoiled in fear of the 6-year-old, until he remembered that _females_ were watching.

"I am entitled to it. You are minors, after all." The headman straightened his spine up till he was at his top height, 5 feet. He spoke loudly, hoping to recover his dignity.

"Then where, pray tell, are we going to sleep?" growled Joji.

"Why can't you sleep where you've been sleeping at for the last 5 days?" solicited the fat man.

"Because the woods get cold in winter and we'll die of exposure!" yelled Joji.

"Now, now, no need to get prickly. You can stay with me." He looked at Joji. "You look strong enough to do some manual labor."

"What about me?" asked Shinta, looking murderous over the headman's greed.

_'I can't let him stay. He'll keep glaring at me with those yellow eyes of his and scare away my pride. He's a troublemaker anyway, what with that red hair of his. Unnatural. He looks like a foreigner! Stupid Europeans,' _thought the headman wildly.

"You are too young to be of any use. I could make some money off of you by selling you to those slavers that are in the next village over," smirked the headman. A few women gasped in horror, either from the fate of Shinta or the headman's face. Nobody really knew.

"Over my dead body!" roared Joji. "You aren't selling Shinta to any slavers while I'm around!"

"Fine. I guess you won't be around then." The headman glanced over to the side of the room. "Take him away to the daimyo's castle as a servant. I have no need for rebellious _slaves_." Two strong but dumb-looking men, your stereotypical musclemen, grabbed Joji and hauled him away. Shinta made a move to run after his elder brother in a desperate act, but was stopped by Joji yelling at him.

"Don't come after me! I'll come and get you Shinta! I promise! I promise!"

Shinta nodded with a mist clouding his eyes. He turned to glare angrily at the headman. "You may sell me, but I'll be back. Just you wait. Nowhere will be safe for you." Shinta warned, as he was drug away to the village. The headman sighed in relief that the red-haired menace was gone.

/oOo/

The headman sat on his fat behind, thinking he looked impressive in his ornate robes and headgear. He smirked smugly over at the two samurai who sat uncomfortably on the tatami mats.

"So, I take it you two are those Isshin Shishi people, eh? And you want me to join my _considerable_ coffers to your cause?" The headman chuckled at their neediness. He would learn some things, tweaking the revolution to his favor, then sell them out to the Shogunate once he had no more need of them. It was a perfect plan, one that made him richer, if not in money, then in power.

"Yes, Yukio-sama. You're correct, as always," the samurai said thickly, as if the words were hard to make out without gagging. Of course, the headman was too busy preening himself to notice.

"I suppose I could… if, of course, I get protection. I've made many enemies over the years, you know," simpered Yukio, waggling a sausage finger at the samurai.

_'I betcha you have, you fat fiend. Just you wait until you see _who _your protection is,' _thought the samurai darkly.

"Yes, we will give you for a few days our very best," said the other samurai.

"Why for only a few days? I am an important man," huffed Yukio in a put-off way.

"Our commander, Katsura Kogoro, needs him after a few days. He is Katsura's personal bodyguard. It's a sign of our goodwill that we're lending him to you," explained the first samurai in a Kansai accent.

"Ah, I see. Well, what is his name?" asked the fat headman.

The first samurai paused, in order to relish the headman's upcoming horror. "Hitokiri Battosai, Yukio-sama."

The headman blanched in terror. The devil was coming to his abode?! The very notion of it… could be a very useful thing if dealt with correctly. He decided to take them up on their offer. He could bribe the killer to deal with the Isshin Shishi when he turned on them. Yes, the murderer's presence was a boon.

"V-very well. Show him in." Yukio said shakily in bravado.

"As you wish, Yukio-sama." The first samurai, the one with the least manners, twisted around toward the shoji door and yelled, "Oi! Himura! Come on in!"

The door opened very slowly, and there he was. Yukio gasped in sheer panic.

It was Shinta, albeit an older, colder version with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. The samurai daisho on his belt proved that the boy had risen further up on the social ladder than Yukio himself.

"Hello, Yukio-sama. I see you've been doing… well." The words were like ice, or daggers. Yukio couldn't tell which. Either way, the words were laced with venom.

The two samurai glanced at each other in a silent exchange. Apparently, the Battosai and the headman knew each other.

"It's been 10 years since we last met, isn't it? Small country." The teen's voice was soft, but deadly. The amber glare on his face seemed permanently glued on. Yukio gulped.

I suppose it is. Uh, can these two samurai leave? We have a deal." Yukio said in a small, scared voice. He had to take out this horror from Japan quickly, Hitokiri Battosai or not. Blast the plan! If he told the Bafuku that the most infamous adversary was dead by his hands, he would be welcome with open arms. Even the fastest man couldn't outstrip bullets from a Gatling gun. Which, coincidently, Yukio had in this very room with a trusted guard manning it at all times.

The samurai nodded and left, leaving the room with the killer and the headman that indirectly sold him to killing alone. Together.

"I say we wait about 10 minutes before we leave," whispered the first samurai to his friend when they were outside.

"Why do you say that, Denburo?" whispered the second samurai.

"Because, Akihito, I believe Himura will kill that pig before we step out of them gates."

"Will Katsura stand for that?"

"You betcha he will. The pig has ties to those Bafuku dogs. This was a set-up from the very beginning. Last assignment to Himura, too. Katsura's smart, ya see?"

"Ah…! That is too funny! Yeah, we'll wait. Himura'll be done in a minute."

Back in the room, Himura sensed the gunman's nervous ki, noticing that he had a Gatling gun in a corner. Easily outmaneuvered. Now, time to settle an old score.

"Well, Yukio, it seems you've gotten fatter than ever," spat Himura.

"Now, now, Shinta-"

"Don't call me that, you simple-minded tick! You don't deserve to call me anything." Himura glowered.

"I'll do anything! Please don't kill me!" pleaded Yukio, sensing the teen's murderous intent.

"Where is my brother, then?" growled the killer. A few indoor plants snapped in the background.

"B-brother? Y-you mean the one I gave to the daimyo? That brother? -" stammered Yukio.

Himura stood quietly, contemplating something. "You have no idea, do you? Then I have no use for you. Goodbye, Yukio. It wasn't nice knowing you."

The headman started to scream, and the Gatling gun started to fire in a crazy pattern. The hitokiri dodged the bullets and appeared in front of the headman's prone form. His sword rasped outwards in a clean horizontal line. The headman collapsed without his head. The Gatling gun kept firing, but Himura simply leapt above the barrage and Ryu Tsui Sen-Zan'd the pathetic gunner.

A quick flick of the sword and the blood splattered onto the tatami mats. "Pathetic, as always. I did tell you I would come back." With that, the cold, dead-inside assassin stepped outside of the room, leaving the mess for someone else.

**/oOo/**

**Author's Note: **Wow, I had fun writing this one. I like writing villains for some reason. Pious people are no fun to write, for some reason. Yukio is fat because he's like a parasite. That explains why Kenshin called him a tick. Yukio doesn't do anything to earn his vast amounts of food, but instead takes it from the farmers. He's a jerk.

Yukio means, "to always gets his way". Yukio always got what he wanted until the very end.

Joji means, "farmer", so that's why his mother says "Joji was always a good farmer." It's a pun!

Shinta can mean, "Great Heart" so Shinta is credited with kindness. Again, his mother saying Shinta had a big heart is yet another pun. It's very pun-ny.

By the way, this is the longest one shot I have ever written. I hope you have enjoyed it.


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